Do You Permit It (Can You Hear The People Sing?)
by Writing Fangirl for hire
Summary: "If you will permit it?" Every part of Enjolras wanted to scream "No!" Every fiber of his being wanted to tell Grantaire to run. To live. To do anything. Anything but die. Not exactly Enjolras/Grantaire depending on how you view it... Character Death because duh it's Les Mis. oneshot.


Enjolras stood on the first level of the Corinth, blood seeping through his clothes. But he didn't notice. Not for a long time.

The shooting had long since stopped. The soldiers long since gone.

His friends had long since died.

He could look out the window and count bodies of men on the barricade that he hadn't even known the name of.

Blood of so many people flew down the streets.

It was a mistake that he was alive.

The bullets hit him several times in several places, none of them fatal.

He should be grateful that he is still alive, he should know that he's lucky.

But he keeps thinking how wrong it is. What a mistake it is that he lives.

"_Wait! I belong to this revolution!"_

He could only remember the sudden terror in hearing that voice.

"_I belong to this barricade!"_

The words he would have rejoiced to hear said hours before hand.

"_Vive le Revolution! Vive le Republic!"_

Conviction that he couldn't have instilled until the moment that he wished he couldn't hear it.

"_If you are going to kill him, I shall die as well."_

Words he knew any of his friends would have said, but from _him_ he dreaded them.

Then _he _looked at Enjolras.

"_If you will permit it."_

Every part of Enjolras wanted to scream "No!" Every fiber of his being wanted to tell Grantaire to run. To live. Drink wine. Find Cosette and tell her of Marius's love.

Every bit of Enjolras wished to be back at the Musain, giving speeches about freedom while Grantaire was completely drunk at a table, laughing at him, irritating him.

He wanted to see Grantaire do something.

Anything.

Anything, that is, but be dead.

Whether it was from the loss of blood or the loss of his friends, Enjolras was getting dizzy, his vision was getting fuzzy. He sat down on the rubble.

It was a mistake that he was alive.

Enjolras took hold of the red flag that he'd been dangling over the window with, he gazed at it sadly.

The tears started and didn't stop. His body heaving with tears that he was sure would kill him.

"Do you hear the people sing?" a gravelly, strained voice hummed quietly, "Singing the song of angry men. It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again."

"Grantaire," Enjolras choked out crawling over the rubble to the bleeding man.

"When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when- ungh- tomorrow comes," Grantiare strained.

"Shh, shh no. Don't," Enjolras commanded weekly, taking the red flag and wrapping it around Grantaire's wounds.

"You are not immortal Apollo," Grantaire groaned. Enjolras laughed as the tears streamed down his face.

"Now now Apollo," Grantaire said a strained smile on his pained face, he put his hand on Enjolras's cheek, "Don't shed a tear for a human. It will make it seem like you actually care for us lower people."

"Don't go dying on me Grantaire, it will ruin your reputation as a stubborn man," Enjolras gave a worthless attempt at a joke.

"Drunk, wine cask, worthless, cynical, dying, and stubborn, I'll add that to the things that describe-," Grantaire coughed up blood and laid his head back with a groan.

"Grantaire no," Enjolras choked, "not worthless. Any of those but worthless. Don't leave me. I know not who I have left, if I have any. Even if I have others. You can not leave me, I do not permit it."

Grantaire seemed to finally hear these last words. He sat up a bit more.

"I fear I must leave you, Apollo. But not for you to fear dear Enjolras. Marius yet lives."

Enjolras sobbed into Grantaire's blood filled vest, mumbling words like "I don't care."

"I can hear them singing Enjolras," Grantaire's eyes grew wide, "I can... I can hear Gavroche, and Courfeyrac..."

"No, please no Grantaire," Enjolras cried, grasping each side of Grantaire's face.

"Enjolras, I am in pain. I can see them now. Please, Enjolras, please permit me go?"

"And if I do not permit it?"

"I will stay, I will suffer, and I will live. If that is what my god commands."

"I cannot command you more pain Grantaire," Enjolras said quietly.

"I will stay if you command. Until the doctor announces you dead I will stay."

"I cannot... I cannot do this on my own."

"Then you force me to repress the people Apollo," Grantaire say, sounding more exhausted than before, but his voice taunted Enjolras.

"It would be selfish of me to make you do so..."

"Do you permit it?"

Enjolras's tears fell even heavier as he put his bloody forehead on top of Grantaire's.

"Yes," he whispered. Grantaire took a deep breath.

"Do you hear the people sing?" he asked.

Enjolras's tears kept falling.

"When the beating of your heart, matches the beating of the drums... there's a life about to start... when..."

Grantaire's head fell down and Enjolras's pressed a kiss to his forehead. His vision was blurry again he grabbed hold of the red flag and Grantaire's green vest. He could hear drums.

_Will you join in our crusade? Who will stand by me? _

_From beyond the barricade_

_There's a whole new world to see_

_Can you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men_

_It's the song of a people who won't be slaves again_

_When the beating of your heart, matches the beating of the drums_

_There's a life about to start, when tomorrow comes._

"_Hello Enjolras? Have a drink with me."_


End file.
